


Doin' Alright

by blobfish_miffy



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Brian Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Freddie is a good friend, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, Modern Queen AU, Panic Attacks, Poor, brian is the mom friend, brian worries about everything, but also angst, money problems, so this is like fluff, the band lives together in one place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blobfish_miffy/pseuds/blobfish_miffy
Summary: Brian worries a lot, Roger and John fight a lot, Freddie tends to space out.Then the gas shuts off.Title is from, of course, Doing Alright.





	Doin' Alright

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Queen fic, and it's also (sort of) unedited. I did light editing, but I just wanted to post it and go. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, don't show this to like, any of the remaining members of Queen, or any of the BoRhap gang. I know nobody will but just to underline it!!  
> xx

Brian was worried.

Brian was worried, and he had been on the edge of a mental breakdown all week. 

It was kind of sad, really, how much he felt like bawling his eyes out. Their problems weren’t huge, he knew, the four of them just didn’t have a lot of money. Sometimes they couldn’t pay the bills on time, but their rent was the most important thing. _Preventing eviction_ , he’d once thought as he transferred the money to their landlord, cringing as their shared bank-account looked painfully empty after, _is the most important thing._

Being broke was still frustrating.

He’d lay awake at night and wonder how they would get through their next week, living off dry bread and watery lemonade, scraping jars for the last bits of condiment stuck to the glass. Sometimes the lights would flicker, signalling that it was time to replace the bulbs, but they didn’t have the money. The strings on his guitar hadn’t felt right for a month now, and neither had the strings on John’s bass, judging by the slight unsatisfied pull at the corners of Deaky’s mouth as he played. It also didn’t _sound_ completely right either. Always slightly off, and no amount of tuning seemed to help.

Rog also played less enthusiastically, Brian noticed. After realising that two loaves of bread had the same cost as the cheapest set of drumsticks, Roger seemed to make sure that his lasted him at least one month.

And Freddie?

To the outside world, Freddie seemed to power on as usual with his ever-present smirk plastered on his face. The nonchalance would have frustrated Brian to no end had he not seen Freddie’s hands tremble ever so slightly every time the young man would pay for something. He recognised it, the uncertainty, the constant fear of not being able to pay for a jar of off-brand peanut butter with a _thirty percent off_ -sticker on the lid; the slight waver of the confident, close-mouthed smile as Freddie would thumb through his wallet, looking for lost pennies.

Yes, Brian was worried.

John, Rog, and him were still going to Uni. He himself worked in a small music shop just around the corner, and John in the small supermarket next to it while fixing electronics in his spare time. Fred had graduated from Uni not too long ago, and was currently a manager in the vintage fashion shop below their tiny, two-bedroom apartment. Rog worked there as well, but part-time, because he didn’t have a lot of spare time with studying and the band. He was, however, considering quitting dentistry, he’d told Brian one late evening after a little too much off-brand vodka John had brought from the one of those budget shops in the outskirts of London when they’d had cash to spare.

 _(“It sucks anyway,”_ Rog had half-slurred, half-shouted at Brian, who didn’t know whether to find the statement amusing or concerning, keeping in mind how much money they’d spent on the costs of university. _“And I suck at it. Imma- I’m just going to work full-time in the shop, y’know? Maybe we’ll be able to pay the rent on time for once then.”_

Brian didn’t have the heart to tell him that they did, however, always pay the rent on time, and suggested that Roger should do something that he didn’t think sucked. _)_

The stress of being low on money didn’t only get to Freddie and Brian, though.

John and Roger got more snappy by the hour. They egged each other on, and even though John was usually the only one with common sense in the band, his patience ran out quicker each day. Both Brian and Freddie had taken on the role of being the one who kept the two from ripping each other’s throats out.

The four of them sat around the kitchen table in an uncomfortable, tense silence, each of them munching on old bread with a slice of the cheapest cheese they could find: the fake American cheddar cheese singles, that each came separately wrapped in plastic. When Brian had peeled the plastic from the weird substance with a grimace, he ignored the voices in his head yelling about pollution and animals starving because of their stomach being filled with indigestible synthetics.

 _Well_ , he stubbornly snapped at his conscience after he took a bite of the terrible sandwich, _if the animals will die because they ate plastic, I certainly will too, with this cheese._ The bread was dry and crumbly and almost made him cough and had an oddly bitter aftertaste, and the cheese didn’t taste like much except for salt. The texture reminded him of melted rubber, however that may feel like on his tongue.

Roger was shooting glares at John from across the table, who looked equally as murderous. They’d been shouting at each other just before sitting down, and had quietened down after Brian had put on his angry, disappointed professor voice. They’d resolved to just staring each other down with as much passion as possible.

Even Freddie was less quirky than usual, having slunk back in his seat. The eyeliner he’d put on his waterline and on his upper lash line had smudged since the application this morning, making him look like a sad raccoon. He was oddly quiet, staring off into the distance as he munched on the sandwich.

Brian swallowed his bite and grimaced as the combination of sticky plastic cheese and crumbling bread slid down his throat. He coughed, reaching for his glass of water. They’d run out of teabags and instant coffee yesterday.

Two days. In two days he’d get his paycheck and they’d be able to buy the necessary.

“This is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Brian put his glass down and glanced at Roger, who’d directed his glare from Deaky to the half-eaten bread in his hand, as if it’d done him personal harm. Knowing Rog it probably had.

“Water will wash it down, mate.” He stated. Roger pulled a face, shoved the entire piece into his mouth, chewed, and started guzzling water. John grimaced, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.

“What?” Rog spluttered with a full mouth, still chewing. His face was still contorted in disgust, probably because the water allowed the limited flavours to really swirl around his mouth now. “Am I bothering you, Deacon?”

“Just the meal, probably, Rog,” Brian rushed out. “I reckon it’s just an annoying, ugly, third cousin from cheese on toast, innit, Deaks?” Okay, his attempt at saving the fragile peace that resided in the apartment was a little desperate. But that was because he _was_. He didn’t think he could stand another fight.

John nodded and took another bite, too wrapped up in his disgust to answer properly, swallowed, and inhaled deeply again.

John noticed the questioning glances Rog and Brian shot him. “It fights my gag reflex,” he managed to croak out, before taking a slow sip from his water. He shuddered. “This can’t even be called cheese.”

“It isn’t.” Roger answered an unspoken question with quite a snotty tone. He smirked at John, as if glad that he said something smart for once and ignoring the fact that he was doing a selective course in Medicine. He then smoothed the wrappings of the cheese out on the table. “See? It just says melt. It’s dairy stuff that melts on hot things, like burgers.” He shot a quick glance at Brian, who couldn’t help roll his eyes at the cheeky, evil grin.  “Or fresh bread.”

“They’re cheese singles, idiot.” John rolled his eyes so far back that Brian was just about sure they’d seen the front of his brain. “Processed cheese. It’s still cheese.”

“ _But it doesn’t say cheese, fucker._ ”

“It does on the ingredients’ list, Rog.” John stuck his nose in the air in a mock attempt to be haughty – Brian had to swallow a snort at that as to not set Roger off, the blond could contain a lot of anger in such a small body – and pursed his lips in the way Roger did when he was being a know-it-all. “And fucker isn’t an insult. At least _I_ fuck, lonely boy."

Roger’s face contorted in a nasty, anger-fuelled grimace and turned red, before he stood up to full height. “I’ve fucked _twice_ as many women as you, you little shit-”

 _Oh Deaky,_ Brian closed his eyes in frustration when John merely cackled and Roger almost leaped across the table to get to the younger man, _you like playing with fire, don’t you?_

As Roger chased John around the apartment like an annoying cheetah – John still laughing maniacally – Brian had resolved to picking up the dishes that had been thrown about when Rog had jumped on the dining table. Two of the three plates still had pieces of bread on them, but he was certain that neither Deaky nor he would like that last piece. His hands trembled as he gathered the plastic plates and cups, before pausing next to Freddie.

Freddie. Weirdly enough, the oldest and most fabulous of their little gang had shown no interest in John and Roger’s spectacular argument, though he was usually the one who would thought of it as most entertaining, before calming them down.

Brian leaned down and ignored the thumping of feet on the wooden flooring.

“Fred?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking, “What’re you thinking about mate?”

He didn’t react. Brian frowned.

“Fred?” reaching out his hand with plates, he softly pushed the edge of the little stack against Freddie’s shoulder. “Fred? What’s wrong?”

Freddie shook his head, blinking once- twice-

“Oh, darling, I didn’t notice you there.” He smiled with a closed mouth – something he usually never did in front of Brian, or John, or Roger – and waved his hand weakly. “I’m fine, Bri. Just some daydreaming.”

“Okay then,” Brian said sceptically. “Whatever you say, mate.”

Freddie smiled again – another close-mouthed smile – and pushed back his chair to stand up. “Shall I help you with the dishes, dear?”

Brian glanced at the pile of pots, pans, wineglasses, and other dishes that had been collecting since last week, took a deep breath, and shot a forced smile in his friend’s direction. “That’d be great, Fred.”

Freddie swiftly collected the remaining dishes – just a few drinking glasses – and set them down on the counter next to the plates. Brian had already turned on the tap to wait for it to warm up.

“It’s shit, isn’t it?” Freddie murmured out of the corner of his mouth. He squirted some soap into a pan – they were probably going to have to let it soak in warm water for as long as possible to be able to scrub the caked leftovers from the pan – before clarifying. “The way we can’t afford anything right now.”

Brian was tapping the stream of water from the tap with his fingers absentmindedly, waiting for the water to reach the correct temperature, and nodded silently. Someone – John, probably – screeched obscenities from the living room, while being answered with pterodactyl-like yelling.

“I suppose it’s been quite stressful, yeah,” he agreed. His voice cracked a little. “If I’m being completely honest, I’ve never been this drained before.”

He saw Freddie smile from the corner of his eyes. “You always worry so much, Bri. I wish you’d do it less sometimes.”

Brian swallowed and blinked a few times. His eyes felt dry and irritated. Worrying was his thing, wasn’t it? He’d been worried about things for as long as he could remember, starting off with performing well at school and wondering if his classmates liked him and about fresh stains on the trousers his mum had bought for him the day before. It evolved into handing in assignments with his heart in his throat even if he knew the subject was too easy for him and he’d get full marks easily, worrying if his hair wasn’t too wild and his smile not too obnoxious and his body not to gangly. And now, now that he was in a band with his best friends, doing amazing at Uni and shared his home with his friends, he still worried. He again worried about assignments and his appearance but also if they’d be able to go to bed with full stomachs and wouldn’t have to sleep on the streets.

“I do too, sometimes.” Brian said, then, clearing his throat when his voice cracked again. “My mind won’t ever shut up. I hate it.”

Freddie sighed through his nose, still smiling gently, and scratched at some crusts on the handles of the pan. “It’s just how you are, Bri,” he said quietly. “You’re like our emotional support.”

Brian blinked a couple of times to get rid of the burning in his eyes. “You’re my emotional support, too.”

Freddie barked out a short laugh and reached out a hand to gently slap his shoulder, grinning when Brian managed to shoot him a small smile, and then gestured towards the running water. “Hey, is it ready yet?”

Brian frowned at the stream of water coming from the tap. He’d been absentmindedly swiping his finger through it for the past minute while he chatted with Freddie, but it didn’t seem to heat up.

Then something clicked.

“Is something the matter, Bri?” Freddie asked concernedly when Brian inhaled sharply and grasped the tap with his hand. Brian ignored him, holding a finger from his free hand under the water as he waited for any type of warmth to come through, because if it didn’t –

“For _fuck’s_ sake, of course.” He whispered. Heat was spreading through his chest, both a combination of anger, disbelief, and panic, and he felt all the colour leaving his face. He turned off the tap quickly and accidentally slammed his fingers against the edge of the washbasin in the process. He didn’t register the sharp pain and the steady throb that followed, the gears in his head turning at top speed.

“Bri? What’s going on?” Freddie was starting to sound slightly panicked as his eyes flicked from the turned off tap to Brian’s pale face and he started to chew on his bottom lip. “Bri? Why’d you turn the tap off? We can’t do the dishes now.”

“The gas is off,” he whispered, probably too low for Freddie to understand.

Freddie shook his head, confused. “What are you saying, darling? Are you alright? We need to-”

“We can’t do the _fucking_ dishes, Fred.” Brian snapped, clenching his hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

“What do you mean we can’t do the dishes? Of course we can-”

“The gas is off.” He interrupted angrily. “The gas is off, because I forgot to pay the fucking bill this month. They shut us off. We don’t have any type of heat and – god _fucking_ dammit!”

Freddie’s small _‘oh’_ was so soft and defeated that it hit Brian right where it hurt. Frustration and panic and _guilt_ flooded his senses and his pulse thundered in his ears and his vision became blurred. For fuck’s sake, _he_ was the one responsible for the payment of bills. _He_ was the one who said it wouldn’t hurt to buy food that was actually too expensive for them for once, to buy little somethings for themselves like new gloves or a hat or a pair of socks and then they didn’t have enough money to pay the gas bill and he forgot to mention it because there still were three days before the deadline and his phone was dead and he was too lazy to get up and get the charger and oh my _God-_

Brian couldn’t breathe.

His throat was closing up and his lungs wouldn’t expand. It was like a static was spreading through his body that rendered his limbs useless. His heart was going both a hundred miles an hour and at a snail’s pace, something blocked his sight and his mind raced and spun and ached and he didn’t know what to do.

_I forgot I forgot I forgot it’s my fault it’s my fault it’s my fucking fault –_

“Brian,” it seemed to come from far away, a gentle, angelic voice slowly pulling him out of the waters. “ _Brian_ , it’s fine. It’s only for a while. We’ll be back up as soon as we can pay the bill, and we’re all getting paid next week, aren’t we?”

Hands were placed on his cheeks, _cold hands_ , and his eyes snapped open. He hadn’t realised he’d closed them. Freddie was just in front of him, with flushed cheeks and red eyes. He immediately felt guilty for freaking his best friend out.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, breath stuttering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, love.” Freddie sounded grounded and secure. His thumbs wiped under Brian’s eyes – had he been crying? – and he pressed his lips against Brian’s forehead.

“But I- _it’s my fault_. I forgot to pay the bills, I-”

“You’re not the only one who looks after the bills, darling. You don’t have to take care of us alone. We’re all adults here.” Freddie then leaned back, raking his dark eyes over him, jittery and trembling and barely able to exhale. “You had a panic-attack,” he said, calm and collected, “and I need you to breathe with me, okay? Inhale for seven seconds, hold for four, release for eleven. Can you do it with me, love?”

Brian closed his eyes and followed Freddie’s lead in the breathing exercise. As he’d hoped for, it helped somewhat in making him able to breathe normally. Still, he felt panicky and uncomfortable and ready to bawl his eyes out, and Freddie noticed. The older man pressed his mouth against Brian’s hair and sighed through his nose.

“If you need to cry, let it out,” Freddie murmured, mouth still pressed against his head. Long fingers raked through his curls and Brian bit his lip so hard the taste of blood flooded his mouth. “And if it’s the dishes you’re worried about, we can still do them. Our electricity’s still on, isn’t it? Our kettle’s electric. We’ll heat water up that way. And I’m pretty sure there’s a space-heater in the attic. We’ll all just sleep in one room for the next couple of days. It’s like a sleepover, alright? Won’t that be fun? We can build a pillow fort and as we’ve still got internet and electricity, we can watch a movie or something. Maybe play a few songs.”

Brian nodded.

“Great,” Freddie pulled back, swept his thumbs under Brian’s eyes again, and smiled gently. “We’ll be fine, Brian. I know we will.”

He nodded back.

John and Roger were standing awkwardly by the refrigerator, he noticed when Freddie helped him get on his feet. John looked worried, and Roger looked incredibly guilty – which, in turn, made Brian feel guilty, because he made his best friends feel the way they did. _Don’t_ , he reminded himself before he could mentally beat himself up about it, _you’ll break down again_.

Roger approached him slowly, as if Brian were a wounded forest animal sceptical and scared of humans, and engulfed him in a bear-hug as soon as he was close enough. Quick footsteps and the feel of two other pairs of arms around him notified Brian of John and Freddie joining in on the hug, and he felt a warm feeling spread through his body as he pressed his face in Roger’s hair.

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch,” Roger mumbled, voice muffled against Brian’s sweater. His fingers were digging into Brian’s sides almost painfully. “Deaky apologises too. For being a bigger bitch.”

The small ‘ _hey, fuck you too, rainbow man!’_ ’ John uttered in protest was enough to make the corner of his mouth perk up a little, and the banter that followed caused the tiny, amused smirk to turn into a soft smile. It was bit odd to be able to be so amused, so shortly after a breakdown, but it felt refreshing. As Rog and Deaky continued to playfully call each other names and insult each other’s performances(“ _Go last one minute in bed, fuckface, I’m sure Ronnie would like to beg for you to last longer again” “At least I last one minute, Mr. Cum-And-Go”_ ), Brian pulled back from Roger a little and reached out towards Freddie, who laced their fingers together and squeezed them tightly before letting go.

“Sorry for freaking all of you out,” Brian interrupted John cursing out Roger, the weak apology to the group sounding a bit pathetic to his own ears. His voice still was a bit shaky, but he ignored it. “Anyway, ready to build a pillow fort? We’re having a sleepover in the living room tonight.”

Three cheers rose up in the kitchen, as the four of them broke from the hug. Brian felt comfort in taking the lead and dishing out orders about who should do what(“Freddie, you and John go get the space heater. And John, make sure the damn thing doesn’t burn the house down. Also, get your laptop. Rog, you and me are going to grab all of the mattresses and place them in the living room. We’re going to grab every goddamn pillow in this apartment and use it.”) and Freddie winked at him as he dragged John along to find the space heater. Roger almost skipped towards their bedrooms and was already dragging his mattress from his bed before Brian had even reached the space, chattering about how fun it was going to be.

Brian’s smile wasn’t forced as he helped his best friend drag the heavy thing towards the living room.

They’d be fine.

 

(Later that evening, when every mattress was placed and shoved close together, when John’s laptop had been shut closed after the credits of the third movie started to roll, when everybody had settled in comfortable positions, Brian took a breath and felt calm.

Right to him was John, rolled up completely in a burrito of blankets and curled up into Brian’s side, snoring softly. On his left side, half snuggled against his arm, was Roger, probably falling in between the two mattresses. Freddie, he knew, was lying on his side facing towards the piano, with his back pressed against Roger’s. One mattress would stay unused that night.

Brian was worried, sometimes. He was worried about what would happen in the morning. He was worried about how John would fare with sleep-deprivation and without coffee, how Freddie would fare without a proper breakfast, and how he himself would handle those things. He was worried about Roger’s back, that would be hurting by morning if Roger continued to cling to his arm in the uncomfortable position he was in, and would dampen his mood significantly.

He was worried, sometimes.

But he closed his eyes with a small smile and a noise of comfort, and slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.)


End file.
